Times Like These
by Lythweird
Summary: After Scotland and England have yet another bout over their culinary arts  or lack thereof , a certain Scottish nation thinks back to better days gone by...France/Scotland OC . R&R please.


**Title:** Times Like These  
**Characters/Pairings:** France/Scotland(OC); England + Wales + Ireland + Canada (mention of America)  
**Rating: **PG  
**Warning:** Fluff/sap, and lots of it. Also some swearing on Scotland's behalf. That's pretty much a given though.  
**Summary:** After Scotland and England have yet another bout over their culinary arts (or lack thereof), a certain Scottish nation thinks back to better days gone by…

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters, but Scotland (James MacDougall), Wales (Gwynn Owens), and Ireland (Liam Cavanaugh) belong to _me (Allison-san on Deviantart) _only.

* * *

"Well, it's bloody obvious who the better cook in this household is…" England trailed off as the Englishman smugly smirked up at the other man in front of him, none other than his eldest brother Scotland. The two British nations were in the middle of yet another argument, this time over who was the best cook out of the two. Both nations were reputed for being some of the worst cooks in the world, and neither were going to admit that their respective cuisine was the worst of them all. This war had raged for centuries, and they weren't about to call it quits and give up any time soon.

The second youngest, Wales, sat nearby his two brothers in a chair with a rather annoyed expression, his hand resting on his chin as he tiredly but anxiously watched England and Scotland bantering over their infamous culinary skills. He really just wanted them to get over it and make peace for once, but that was never going to happen with the two thick-headed Britons heatedly engaged in their argument. The last thing he wanted was for those two to end up in a physical fight, which most definitely would not end well for anyone.

"Ach aye, ye mean me?" Scotland retorted to his brother's remark, returning a smirk just as smug as his little brother's, arms crossed confidently. Wales rolled his eyes at his eldest brother's remark, he couldn't believe they were going on about this _again_ for the third time this week, and it was only _Wednesday. _A part of him just wanted to leave the room entirely, but _someone_ had to watch over them, and he guessed he would be the responsible sibling…_again_.

England couldn't help but cringe at the thought of Scotland having more 'finesse' than him in the culinary arts. He made a slight noise of disgust from the back of his throat and sneered up at his older brother, turning his nose up to the Celtic nation, "Who the bloody hell do you think I mean? Not you, of course! Anyone _but_ you, _dear brother_." He grinned mockingly up at the northern nation who merely glared at the blond in return. "We all know _my_ cooking skills reign most superior in this household. Now if you would kindly please step aside allow me to begin preparing our dinner now, I'm rather starved I'll have y-"

"Fuck no ye dinnae!", Scotland interrupted and quickly moved in front of his brother to prevent him from making his way into the kitchen. "Ye're nae goin' in there! I am nae bloody going tae eat that mess ye always end up makin' in there. No bloody way, Arthur! On me dead body!"

England let out an annoyed sigh, "Really now? Must you be so annoying and persistent? It's not even that bad, mind you. Besides which, don't you have better things to be doing, such as drinking or getting drunk…whatever it is you bloody Scotsmen do," he muttered. "It's not like you're going to make any—"

"Will you two just cut it out already?", Wales abruptly interrupted his two siblings' argument, the Welshman's thick eyebrows furrowing. "This is bloody ridiculous! And not to mention the third time you two have argued about this in one week!", he sighed in an annoyed fashion. "As if I don't hear the both of you fighting over other things rather than your own cooking in a singly day. Why don't you both just sit back a—"

"SHUT UP!", England and Scotland yelled loudly at the poor Welshman in perfect unison. They both blinked in response, then immediately turned to glare at each other, then back to Wales. Wales merely cowered back slightly, his expression falling as he earned two rather dark looks from his brothers. Maybe it was best not to intervene with their argument after all. _Things would only get worse after all._

England furrowed his bushy brows together and turned to Scotland, frowning visibly with a faint scowl, "Tch, I can't believe he's actually making a valid point. Bloody hell, as much as I hate to say this, but Gwynn is making more sense than you, Scotland. But, that's really not surprising, seeing as this is _you _we're talking about." England huffed angrily and turned his back sharply to his eldest brother. "I'm done with all this bloody nonsense, I'll have you know." The Englishmen said as he began to storm out of the room furiously.

"Aye, run away why dinnae ye, Arthur? Be a wee fuckin' coward just as ye are! It's nae like it's the first time!" Scotland angrily yelled at his brother, who merely extended his right hand and flipped him off with two fingers inverted in the British fashion as he disappeared from the room without a further word spoken.

Scotland's face began to heat up angrily in response to England's offensive gesture towards him. "Bloody wanker," he spat under his breath, clenching his fists tightly, and glared at the doorway where England had just been merely a few seconds ago. "Bloody fuckin' wanker…!" _Oh he was mad alright._

"Um…maybe you should sit back and calm down a little, James," Wales spoke softly towards his redheaded brother, trying his best to calm the Scot. The last thing he needed now was for the Scot to unleash that volcanic temper of his upon the Welshman. "And try not to listen to him s—"

"Will ye just shut up a'ready?", Scotland replied curtly to his brother, who winced back a little in response at his harshness. "As if ye've caused enough trouble fer me a'ready…" He glowed faintly at his younger sibling.

Deciding that it was best not to say anything further, the dirty blond-headed nation bowed his head and walked out of the room with his shoulders slumped, leaving Scotland standing alone, isolated in the doorway to the kitchen.

Sighing rather agitatedly, the redhead made his way in the kitchen towards a cabinet in the very back corner where most of the alcohol was stored away. Taking out a glass and a half empty bottle of his famous Scotch whisky and popping the lid off, Scotland poured out the rich amber liquid from the bottle into the clear glass. He took a small sip, tasting the strong liquor, and made a faint sound of satisfaction. _Oh_, how he loved it. He would _never_ grow tired of this, that was for certain.

Moving out of the kitchen and into the living room, Scotland settled himself into a chair with a beautiful velvet red finish and gratefully sunk back into it, his previous anger slowly leaving him as he relaxed peacefully in the comforting atmosphere. He took yet another sip of his glass, relishing the powerful taste of the golden coloured whisky as it washed down his throat. He sighed contently to himself, growing tired and more tired as the seconds went on, and it was only a short matter of time until he realized that he had finished both the glass and bottle of liquor off already. Setting the glass and bottle aside onto the small table next to him, he leaned back into the chair tiredly, blinking rather heavily, finding it quite difficult to stay awake. Eventually, his eyes grew heavy enough and eventually closed until the Scotsman had finally drifted off into a faint slumber, with memories of better times filling the vast void of his dreams…

_It was another one of those days where Scotland needed to get away from everything in the world to be by himself. Of course that wasn't often, but even he of all people needed some time to collect thoughts to himself. And sitting under a decently shaded tree in a lush grove reading gorgeous poetry written by his beloved Robert Burns couldn't have made the Scotsman any more content. The sun was set high in the sky with a few puffy white clouds scattered across the heavens, the sun's shining golden rays slicing through the gaps in them to illuminate the wide area below. A cool, light breeze gently swayed the leaves on the trees as birds chirped merrily around the area. Scotland was a man who reveled in nature, no matter how barbaric he might seem, his heart always seemed to lift to Mother Nature's wondrous beauty. He appreciated the simpler things in life, one thing was for certain. And it was simply a beautiful day indeed._

_Scotland's peace was soon disturbed by a small voice calling out towards him in the distance. He looked up from the dusty old book he was reading to find the source of the voice, grinning and standing up on his feet as soon as he immediately recognized whom the figure running towards him was._

"_Uncle Scotland!" A tiny voice called out towards the Celtic nation as a little boy with dirty blond hair and a curl protruding from the front of his hair rushed up eagerly towards the much taller man, practically jumping into the Scotsman's open arms._

_Laughing, Scotland swooped the young boy up in his arms heartily. He grinned and spun around a few times with the boy as he laughed along with his uncle. "Canada, me lad, whit are ye dain' here runnin' around like this?", he said as he stopped twirling to place an adoring kiss on the young boy's forehead. "I did nae expect tae see ye here, Mata. Nae that I'm unhappy tae see ye of course."_

_Giggling, the young British colony placed a hand on his uncle's cheek with a rather adorable smile that was just about to make the Scot melt dead in his tracks simply looking at his darling nephew, "I came out here just to see you, Uncle. Papa England let me come see you!", he beamed brightly._

_Taken aback by the fact that his brother, of all the people, allowed Canada all the way up there to see him, the Scot raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Och, did he now?" He frowned slightly thinking about what sorts of danger a little innocent boy like Canada could have gotten in. "But all alone like this? Ye could hae gotten hurt ye ken! I dinnae ken whit I'd dae if something were t-"_

"_I escorted him 'ere, Écosse," Scotland was interrupted by another blond who stepped into view from behind a tree. "There is no need to worry," the man slowly smiled towards the direction where Scotland was standing._

"_Papan helped me find you all the way out here, Uncle. He told me this is where you often go to think by yourself." Canada smiled sweetly up at his beloved uncle, then turned to smile back at his 'papa'._

_Turning slowly towards the figure in front of him, Scotland carefully took in the sight of the man's golden hair and elegant, soft face illuminated by the sun's gentle rays, a familiar feeling of nostalgia and longing suddenly overcoming his thoughts and emotions as he looked at the man before him. "France…" he barely managed to breathe out under his breath as he stared into the Frenchman's deep, glittering sapphire eyes. He had a feeling Robert Burns would have been impressed with the thoughts conjuring up in his head right about now, but now really wasn't the time for such thinking, he figured._

_The Frenchman faintly smiled up at the Scotsman, meeting his green eyes bearing an uncanny resemblance to his youngest brother's. "Oui, Écosse?" He spoke softly with a trace of tenderness in his delicate, thickly accented voice._

_Not being able to think of the right words to conjure up in reply, Scotland stuttered awkwardly," I-ah, uh, well…thank ye. Thank ye, Francis." He turned his head away somewhat flustered, feeling his face heating up almost instantly in embarrassment of having nothing better to say to the French nation. He felt like jumping off a cliff right about now._

_Just why was he acting this way? Scotland hadn't acted in a manner like this towards France before, so why now? Had it really been that long since he'd last been together with his former lover? Sure, they were still close friends and took the time to talk and visit one another every once in a while, but Scotland really never got over their previous relationship. He still had feelings for the man he'd loved for far beyond two centuries._

_Canada seemed to take notice of his uncle's face turning a shade of red and piped up nervously, "U-uncle, a-are you okay?", he asked worriedly with his face contorted into a nervous expression, thinking that something was wrong with his dear Uncle Scotland._

_Laughing nervously, Scotland shook the colony's comment off, "Nah, nah, I'm dain' just fine, lad. Ye dinnae need tae worry about me." He smiled at Canada who immediately relaxed after realizing that his uncle was in no trouble and began to blink rather tiredly. The little blonde then looked back towards France with a feeble smile, who merely stood close by watching the two nations with an amused expression on his effeminate features._

_France walked up closer to Scotland, furrowing his eyebrows somewhat. "I do not 'sink Angleterre would appreciate me being with ze both of you. After loosing mon petit Canada to him, he has done everything he can to keep me from him," France sighed. "Mais, I am glad to see that he is in capable hands with you. I would have no better." The French nation looked down at Canada, who had already fallen into a peaceful doze. Scotland smiled fondly down at the young colony as France did the same, but then looked back up to the Frenchman to reply,_

_"Ach…well…" Scotland shifted his weight on his feet tensely. "It's the least I could dae, really." Scotland held the little sleeping colony closer to himself, "He's too busy dottin' on America tae notice th' poor lad anymore." He frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. "That is, when he's nae mistakin' him fer bein' America. I love this lad tae death I dae, I will nae let him oot of my sight, I promise ye that."_

"_I know that, Écosse, I know." France's smile widened as he stared up adoringly at Scotland. "Mon ami, I cannot thank you enough for this. At least I will rest easier knowing that he has you to rely on," France said as he gingerly brushed a few loose strands of hair from Canada's face, who was still slumbering peacefully in the Scot's strong arms but squirming slightly at the contact._

"_Écosse," The Frenchman started, "I am glad I was able to see you again." He lowered his voice to a tone barely audible over a whisper, "I 'ave missed you so. It is good to see you once more." He said as he placed his hands on either of Scotland's shoulders, a warm smile plastered across his beautiful features. Scotland swore his heart was about to beat out of his chest right about now with the way it was beating erratically._

_Blushing none too subtly, the Scotsman carefully snaked his free arm around the French nation's waist, pulling the blonde closer to his body. "I hae too…" he paused for a second. "More than ye'd ever think," he rested his head against France's and sighed to himself, eyes closed, wishing that things could have turned out differently for the two of them as he remembered what they had previously been years, decades, and centuries ago. Oh how he dearly missed those days, and yes, of course, precious moments like these between them._

_France gently took Scotland's face into either of his hands and smiled longingly up at him. "Oh, James…" the Frenchman exhaled peacefully as he stood on the very tips of his feet and leaned his head forward to place a tender but passionate kiss on the Scottish nation's lips, their mouths moving smoothly together as one, before he pulled back after a few blissful seconds to rest a hand on the Scot's cheek, lovingly caressing his thumb over the flush freckled skin, soft lips still faint and lingering on the Scot's._

Scotland hummed in satisfaction, grasping his free hand more firmly around the French nation's waist in a desperate gesture to keep him close, he did not want this to end. "Mmm…I wish it were nae like this. France, I miss ye sae much…" He frowned, mashing his thick eyebrows together, and closed his eyes tightly. "It's just, the Union– "

_France placed a single finger to Scotland's lips, effectively silencing him, "You do not need to say anymore, Écosse, I already know. You are busy enough as it is – as am I." He turned his head away and looked towards the sky to revel briefly at the blue vastness above , "Mais, I am sure we can be together again some day, no matter how we have drifted from another." He turned back to flash a brilliant smile illuminated by the sun's powerful light, "L'amour is like that; it always works out in the end, mon cher._ _Je vous promets~"_

_Scotland couldn't help but smile at the Frenchman, he really had a way with words, he'd give him that. The Celtic nation merely held France closer to himself, feeling the comfortable warmth radiating from the blond's body, enjoying what limited time he had with the European nation at this moment. He didn't want to move for the life of him; he would rather stay this way forever. For all he knew, this was as close to heaven he'd ever been._

_France took a step back, his smile faded faintly as he soon realized how time had gotten away from him so quickly. "It is getting late, Écosse, I 'sink I should be returning 'ome before Angleterre realizes I'm 'ere with ze both of you." France looked down to smile fondly at Canada, still asleep peacefully, and leaned down to place a kiss on the former French colony's cheek. He then turned back up to place a tender kiss on the Scotsman's cheek, lingering for a few more seconds and whispered soothingly into the Scotsman's ears, "I am glad I could see you two once more. S'il vous plait, take good care of Canada." He touched his hand to Scotland's cheek, gave him a sweet smile, and pulled back almost reluctantly after a short while._

"_Ye can count on me, Francis. He's in guid hands, if nae better." He smirked proudly at the Frenchman who merely shook his head amusingly in return._

"I 'ave no doubt in you, Écosse." France chuckled to himself and turned away to leave, but kept his head turned to the side to give a final smile to his former lover, his eyes glittering brightly and his hair a brilliant gold in the sun's shining rays, the sun positioned in such a way that formed a halo of sorts around the Frenchman's head, making him appear almost angelic. The sight simply took Scotland's breath away and he couldn't help but stare dumbfounded at the nation standing only a few feet away from him. To the Scotsman, he was the most beautiful thing in the world, and he always had been.

"_Adieu, mon cher ami. _À_ la prochaine fois," France spoke softly, waving his hand as he began to walk off into the distance. Scotland watched the man adoringly as he held a sleeping Canada close and snugly tucked away in his arms, complete with a broad smile on his freckled face. Maybe things would work out after all._

"Oi, Jimmy! Wake up will ya?"

Scotland's peaceful slumber was soon called to a halt by a voice speaking to him, well, at least he was pretty sure the voice was talking to him. _Who else called him by that nickname?_ Cracking a single eye open, the Scottish nation looked straight ahead to see a freckled redheaded man in front of him with the same bushy eyebrows and green eyes as himself waving a hand in his face, turning out to be none other than his younger brother Ireland.

"Welcome to the world o' the livin'!" The man laughed to himself and grinned playfully at the Scot, winking ever so slightly at him.

Blinking, the Scotsman opened his other eye and sat up slowly from his seat in the chair, rubbing sleep from his eye with a hand then looked back up at his younger brother standing in front of him. "Whit are ye dain' here, Ireland?" he asked rather irritated, perhaps more than he actually meant to sound.

Ireland frowned a bit, mashing his huge eyebrows together. "What d'ye mean? Ye're sayin' that in a tone I dun like much, ye are. I'm offended ye'd be asking me such a question! I get it: ye're not happy ta see me, are ye?" Ireland made an almost comical expression as if he'd been insulted, complete with his hand placed over his chest as if he'd been shot with a bullet in the heart. He really was a silly sight if one didn't know any better.

"'Course I'm nae, just wonderin', that's a'," the Scotsman replied, trying hard not to laugh at his brother's dramatic gestures that he would admit, were probably a little too overdramatic, but the Irishman had a way with things like that. "It's nae like ye tae come over here unannounced, especially when England's aroun'. Hell knows ye avoid him like the plague," Scotland chuckled to himself, shaking his head and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

"Ah, I know. But I really felt like comin' over ta see ye tho', I did. I don't get to see you often anymore, y'know? It's busy in me home a lot lately, more than a lot, actually." The Irishman furrowed his eyebrows more. "Shame I had ta wake ye up like that tho', ye looked so peaceful asleep, ye did."

"Ach, did I now?" Scotland looked to the side, staring down at the floor in thought. "Heh, I wis just dreamin' aboot the past, nothin' special, lad," he smiled thinking about the dream he previously had.

"Nothin' wrong with a little reminiscing of the good ol' days now," The Irish nation laughed complete with his signature cheery smile. "Must've been a nice dream then. So what exactly was it about?" Ireland's eyes widened as his eyebrows shot up in instant curious interest. Oh he was a nosy one alright, but the Irishman meant all the good in the world.

Scotland waved his hand away, dismissing Ireland's question, "Ach, it wis nothin' really."

"Nothin' my arse," Ireland teased. "C'mon, I know it's not bloody nothin'. But if ye really dun' want ta share it with me, than that's fine…" he paused for a second, a devious smirk slowly spreading across the Irish nation's freckled face. "…that is, unless ye'd like to share those thoughts o' yers over a glass o' whiskey or two." He waggled an eyebrow at his brother and nudged him in the shoulder with his elbow as the Scotsman simply laughed in return.

Scotland stood up and looped an arm around his brother's shoulder, pulling the Irishman close to him with a broad grin, and poking his index finger to his cheek playfully. "I like the way ye think, lad. " He laughed once more and started towards the door with his arm around Ireland, "Sounds like a bloody guid plan if ye ask me, Liam."

"Ooh what can I say? I know just how to please anyone n' everyone, I do~", the Irishman practically sang.

"Dinnae push yer luck too much, Irish rouge," Scotland retorted with a smirk, using his other arm to ruffle Ireland's hair with his fist rather roughly, but affectionately at the same time.

Ireland lightly punched his brother's shoulder playfully and looped his arm around his brother's shoulder and chuckled, "Luck o' the Irish, James, remember that," he grinned at the Scot. "Luck o' the Irish~"

Scotland shook his head and couldn't help but grin as they both walked out the door, "Whit am I tae dae with ye?"

The two Gaelic brothers laughed merrily as they made their way outdoors into the heart of the city, heading towards the nearest pub they could find, both with their arms looped around one other's shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk, loudly singing old folk songs in their native Gaelic tongue together in perfect sync and harmony whilst curious bystanders turned their heads to find the comical duo singing loudly to their hearts content without a single care in the world. And they couldn't have been any happier doing it.


End file.
